


Legend Has It

by Harpalyke



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breeding, Egg Laying, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Orgasm, Other, Oviposition, Spanking, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles As Restraints, Xeno, bimbofication, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/pseuds/Harpalyke
Summary: Mischievous, 18-year-old Calla has never believed the legend of a creature lurking in the depths of Lake Tovo. Upon going for a forbidden swim, she swiftly realizes that some legends are based in truth.
Relationships: Tentacle Creature/Reckless Village Girl
Comments: 1
Kudos: 97
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Legend Has It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSockening](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSockening/gifts).



Legend had it that girls, once they reached a certain age, were forbidden to swim and sail in Lake Tovo, because a creature lurked deep within the ferns reaching toward the surface, snaking its long, slimy tentacles out when her scent permeated the water. What that scent was and how it differed from males and little girls, no one could say. Only that the beast could smell them. 

Some speculated that it was their fertility. Some even went further to say that the tentacled beast sought these girls and captured them for breeding. That eggs were implanted into their wombs somehow, rendering them little more than human incubators until they’d lay the humongous eggs filled with the creature’s spawn. 

It all sounded like rubbish to Calla. Her belief was that the adults of Tovo Village, domineering men and prudish women, were trying—rather unsuccessfully—to keep the girls separate from the boys, who were allowed to swim in Lake Tovo at will, to prevent unapproved copulation. After all, she’d once heard old Mr. Gritter say, nothing more appealing than a young lady, wet and barely-clothed. 

And then there were Calla’s parents, the strictest in all of Tovo Village. They didn’t allow her  _ any _ freedom whatsoever. “It is because you’re so beautiful,” they told her, “and such beauty is dangerous.” Calla knew they weren’t lying about that, since she couldn’t seem to have a conversation with a man without it turning into a pursuit, but she was eighteen now. She could handle a swim in the lake, for heaven’s sake. 

Unfortunately, even if she was fine with the wrath of her parents and the villagers, there was still The Disciple to deal with, and he was much stricter than anyone else. The Disciple had Tovo Village under his command, and if the youth disobeyed their elders, they were punished in the square for all to witness. 

The boys’ hands were strung up with ropes by their wrists, and they were whipped on their backs by old Mr. Gritter while The Disciple stood off to the side, counting the lashes in his rarely-heard, baritone voice. The girls’ punishment, doled far less frequently due to the submission ingrained into them since birth, was more personal: They were draped across The Disciple’s lap, belly-down, their skirts lifted and their rears spanked by his leather-gloved hand. The girls either cried or begged for mercy, like the boys, or bit back whimpers. 

Not Calla. When she’d been caught talking to an older, married man, she’d undergone her discipline without a sound, with her eyes squeezed shut and her fists clenched and her teeth mashed together. Around the third or fourth connection of his hand to her bare ass, she’d felt something odd: pain, of course, from her rear to her toes, but also a throbbing between her legs that made her sort of squirm and almost wish the spanking would continue. 

This is perhaps why Calla was not so afraid to defy them all again and sneak into the lake. During Instruction, after she’d told her best friend to report her as sick, she crept through the woods to the other side of the vast Lake Tovo, where the villagers could see her only if they squinted. Even then, they’d assume she was just a bird or a fish—or perhaps one of those tentacles. Not that she believed that ridiculous myth. 

She’d chosen the ideal day to sneak out: The sky was overcast, so no explanation as to why her fair skin had turned red. The air was warm and dry, ready to whisk away moisture from her skin, any evidence of wrongdoing. The water was cool against her bare skin, enveloping her in total bliss as she became one with the water, like the heap of her dress on the rocky shore had never been on her. No wonder the boys never wanted to leave the lake. 

Suspended in the water, Calla closed her eyes and let herself float, enjoying the water lapping softly at the sides of her pert breasts and at her hairline. Just as her mind faded into a comforting white, something below slapped her sharply on the rear. 

“Augh!” she cried, jerking forward. Some of the lake water splashed into her mouth and she was forced to swallow it, busy trying to keep herself from sinking under. Her arms flailed at the water, while her legs folded to her chest so as not to touch that  _ thing, _ whatever it was that had smacked her. Soon she realized she’d drown if she kept panicking, so she stretched out her lithe, nude body and paddled toward the shore. 

“It’s okay, it was just your imagination,” Calla told herself, not really believing it. Her ass stung, a heated welt forming despite the coolness of the water. What on Earth had—? 

“Augh!” she cried out again, much higher-pitched, as something slimy and rope-like wrapped around her ankle and yanked her down. Again she swallowed a bunch of water as her head went under and her body tried to writhe out of the grasp of whatever-it-was. It was pointless; the thing just kept pulling her down, down… 

But something odd was happening: Calla was not choking or struggling for breath but breathing normally, water flowing easily through her lungs and back out through her nose in spurts of bubbles. Meanwhile, her chest was expanding rapidly, her breasts ballooning out so much, she could feel them lifting up as she was pulled further into blackness, weeds tickling her limbs. They grew thicker, some of them not leafy but long and thick, like—like—

_ Tentacles. _ She was heading straight toward a cluster of them. A pair unfurled and came to greet her, one wrapping around her other ankle and the other around her neck. Now held upright with her long, dark hair forming a cloud around her face, Calla couldn’t see the creature’s next move.  _ No, _ she tried to say, but she was voiceless, only bubbles leaving her mouth. 

Another hard slap came to her rear, eliciting more jerks and bubbles, but this time, the tentacle did not pull away. The ones clasped around her ankles pulled them slightly apart so that it could snake in between her thighs and rub against her tender, newly-exposed flesh. 

The tip was pointed, not flat and slim like the rest but covered in small nodules. These pressed into her cunt and dragged her labia forward, grazing her clit before receding. Shocks of electricity sparked at the point of contact between her flesh and the nodules and rushed through her veins so hard, her eyes rolled back. Over and over it rubbed her while the one around her neck tightened ever so slightly. 

Calla’s eyes fluttered closed and she felt her body sag into the creature’s grip. Her strange, absurdly-large breasts bounced and her hips rocked as she thrust desperately against the firm nodules. Just when she tensed up, approaching climax, the tentacle slipped between her puffy labia and into her clenching cunt, the nodules now dragging against her inner walls. 

_ Oh, oh, gods! _ The cry was silent, and yet Calla had emitted it forcefully with her head thrown back, overwhelmed with pleasure. She assumed the tentacle would stop once the tip was fully inside of her, but it kept going, poking into her womb and stretching her cunt as the wider part worked its way in. 

Calla opened her mouth, ready to squeal in pain. Surely she wouldn’t be able to take any more. Thankfully, the creature seemed to know this, for the tentacle inside stilled, and for one moment she was simply held there, stuffed to capacity. 

Then her stomach, like her breasts had, started to grow. The pressure from whatever was filling her womb was almost unbearable, and yet Calla found herself twisting with pleasure again, her cunt clamping around the tentacle, amplified by the one squeezing her throat and another one from the cluster whipping across her ass cheeks. She let the climax consume her, expecting the release to bring a gush of fluid from her lower lips. 

What came out was not her fluid—it was not even liquid. Something large, round, and solid was driving itself out of her womb. The tentacles lifted her legs, bending her knees in anticipation of the birth. She knew she had to push so she did, sobbing from the intense pressure, the stretching, the spark of fear for her own life… 

_No, no, I can’t take it anymore!_ She was ripping in half, surely, her hipbones being pushed wider, the delicate skin of her inner walls about to snap..

Finally, it was out, a perfect, pearl-like egg nestled into the mass of tentacles. She wondered if it would hatch, what would happen next, if the creature would simply strangle her and let her used body float to the surface for all of Tovo Village to see. She should have been more afraid, but she was too exhausted to think of anything too deeply. Instead, she let her head loll to the side and closed her eyes… 

“Who _is_ that, though?” 

Rough hands were rolling Calla’s limp body over. She was lying on a bed of rocks digging into her neck and back. A whimper escaped her lips; the rest of her sagged into the unforgiving surface. With mild relief, she realized her body, though bare, felt like it was back to normal. 

“That’s Calla, Primo’s daughter,” the person holding her said. Maybe if Calla kept still, they’d go away and leave her alone. 

Of course, that was wishful thinking: “Come, let’s take her to The Disciple. He’ll sort it.” 

The Disciple would see the welts on Calla’s ass and then she’d really be in trouble. But still she was too worn-out to care about much but the lingering tingle between her legs, which would very likely intensify when she’d receive her public spanking. And then later, she could maybe sneak back into the lap and spread her sore, achingly-empty cunt for the tentacles to fill once more… 


End file.
